Of Science and Fiction
by APurpleAvacado
Summary: AU. Victorian England, 1900. France, 1900. A university professor is drawn to France, thinking it was merely for a short science convention, he never would've imagined in his wildest dreams what awaited him there. Rating MAY go up.
1. Prologue

Authors note: Hello there! This is my first multi-chapter Hetalia fic so I'm sort of nervous to see how well it's going to go down. I've been working on it in my mind FOREVER, and have only recently got it down on paper...so to speak. Anyway. Do let me know what you think. I'll be posting the first chapter very soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...I just...I just don't...DAMN IT!

Of Science and Fiction;

Prologue:

A figure walked, hastily through the night, shivering slightly due to the cold. Alone. Although, that is not the only reason for the figure's discomfort. It was not common practice, for a lady to be out late in the night, but she had suffered a dispute with her husband, and had gone out walking.

Upon leaving her home, the lady in question had done nothing except grab her cloak and swing it over her shoulders before stepping out into the cold winter air, ignoring her husband's cries for her to return. He was a stubborn man, so she knew he would not follow her. She pulled the cloak tighter against herself, concealing more of her pinstriped rose coloured dress, which flowed to the floor, covering her ankles. Her shoes were thin and unsuitable for the winter weather.

She was thankful it had not been snowing, else her shoes become soaked through.

Her hair was up, in a neat bun, a few strands over her ebony hair framed her face. She wore no hat, she had forced the embarrassment of being improperly dressed to the back of her mind. No one was out this late at night to see and whisper. Indeed it was, that she wore no hat, but instead, a small pink petalled rose, fastened just above her right ear. Her chestnut eyes watched the pavement, careful not to trip, even in the path of the street lights.

Despite her concentration being focused on where she was walking, she was not unaware. She had known, or rather felt, that she was being watched. It made her skin crawl at the thought and her pace increase just slightly. She wasn't sure how long it had been happening, but she'd felt eyes at the back of her head, and she knew...she _knew_ whoever it was, wasn't friendly.

A rush of air flew passed her and she stopped abruptly, alarmed.

It was unnatural. There wasn't even a breeze tonight.

Again she felt the breeze.

Again she felt the eyes.

Again her skin crawled.

She was frightened.

She turned, her eyes widening at the sight before her – she barely had time to scream.

**(A/N: Well. Tell me what you think? Also, slight spoilers guy's, I'm sorry but I have to. So anyone know what Taiwan's name is? That was Taiwan by the way, that chick. I know she doesn't actually have her hair up, but back in the day it was considered improper for a woman to go out in public with her hair down. Only her husband was allowed to see that. )**


	2. Professor, professor

Authors note: I don't know about you, but I decided to set it during the time of Queen Victoria, because frankly, that era fascinates me, although, it IS towards the end. **Sadly I don't know much about France around this era and I'm hard-pressed to find stuff. So, feel free to let me know anything you might know. Pertaining to social behaviour and all that jazz**.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...if I did I would rule the world...and that's no good for anyone but me.

Of Science and Fiction;

Chapter one: Professor, professor.

Winter in England was, as one would expect, quite cold. One would also expect not to have to traipse through the snow at ridiculous hours in the night, battling through snowfall and the winds as it fell unforgivingly onto the pavements of London. It was near Christmas now, and most were starting to get into the spirit of it all. Families had begun to spend more time together, to play, and be merry.

Most, because one Arthur Kirkland, trudged alone in the dark of the night, through the snow with a briefcase clutched tightly to his chest. Turning sharply, Arthur raced up the large stone stairs into the much familiar building of the University in which he worked as a professor of science. Releasing a sigh of relief, Arthur pulled open the large oak doors and stepped inside, shoes tapping on the marble floor and echoing throughout the entrance hall, announcing his arrival to nothingness.

Placing his briefcase on the floor, Arthur took the time to remove his top hat, shaking it and freeing it from it's large white prison, revealing the black velvet beneath and clutching it in one hand before brushing a quick hand over his heavy black trench coat. Inspecting the room for a moment, Professor Kirkland bent down, picking up his briefcase again and making his way up the grand staircase, towards his classroom. This was a scenario Arthur found very familiar, as it was often that he found himself at the University late in the night, working through the next day (after all, he did have classes to teach).

There was, of course, reason behind his madness, and that reason being that Arthur often took this opportunity to do this extra-curricular research, away from prying eyes. So, once the professor arrived in his classroom, he made his way over to his desk, placing his briefcase and top hat on the table's surface before shrugging out of his coat.

It was a lonely experience, Arthur thought, as he turned and exited the classroom to walk down the corridor towards the university's library, but he was used to it. Arthur was a very passionate man, at least, inwardly. Simply because, as Arthur approached the doors to the library a small reserved smile spread across his features. This was the time and place he felt most comfortable. Pushing open the doors, Arthur made his way swiftly to the back of the library, feeling at home along one of England's greatest collections of books.

Although Arthur was a man of science, most others found his work hard to take seriously – they mocked him constantly, saying he was just a crackpot, one who let fairy tales go to his head. They were wrong, of course. He just had no way to prove it, Arthur said to himself as he pulled a large, worn book from the shelf, minding the fragile nature of the literature.

Pulling up a chair, Arthur sat, pulling the book towards him as he went. He had read almost every supposed "fiction" book in the university's collection (what he couldn't understand was why they were in the library at all if they served no educational purpose), barring this one a few others. They often spoke of many thing, such as mermaids, fairies, trolls and banshees, their dwellings, where and when they were spotted and who spotted them.

Now, although Arthur believed in "fairytales", there were some things even he found far-fetched; the Yeti for one, the Loch Ness Monster for another. He also had difficulty believing in ghosts and fantastical predators – the night-crawlers and blood-suckers, those more commonly known as vampires. Professor Kirkland was of firm belief that once one died, it was highly unlikely for someone to live again afterwards. This brought Arthur to contemplate the notion of zombies, it was a new concept, and a concept he found completely and utterly ridiculous. Mindless corpses that felt the need to devour the living? Nonsense. If they where that mindless, they wouldn't have thought to eat people in the first place, let alone master the art of movement.

Despite all of Arthur's objections to these mockeries of magical beings, the sat, reading the text on the page on the very thing he despised. But, he supposed, any knowledge was good knowledge.

Hours later, in the early morning, Arthur still sat, enthralled by the text. He had found that this old, tattered and unkept book had contained perfectly logical theories pertaining to vampires – there were no tales of missing women who fell prey to the charming bloodsucker, before being turned into one themselves and then having the entire town hunt and kill them. No, this book was completely and utterly...sensible. The book claimed that garlic (typically a successful way to ward off vampires) did not work and that crosses were still simply a religious symbol, and not a way to scar a vampire's flesh. In fact, the only myth the book seemed to support was that a vampire could never see daylight.

The ancient text seemed to warn the reader, in this case, Arthur, to be wary of the night – that vampires were fearsome predators, so fast the human eye could not possibly keep up with them, a sense of smell so strong, they could locate their prey without so much as a turn of the head, and eyes so sharp, they could dodge a bullet.

However, Arthur was nothing if not stubborn. This was ridiculous, he thought, no matter how much sense it made, it was ridiculous – there's absolutely nothing in it.

Finally, Arthur stood and closed the book, quickly replacing it on the shelf and walking out of the library. It was around the time time other professors began arriving at the university to prepare for the start of the school day – Arthur couldn't remember exactly what time that was, so it really didn't matter.

Time itself mattered little to Arthur, as it often flew away from him, without him noticing – some of his students had even said he was too old for his body – by which they had meant his mind was dwindling at far too old and age; they thought his memory was worse then it was (which was not at all marred by his age, thank you), as he was often late for class, forgot the time or even the tasks he had set to be done for the following day. Arthur sighed at the thought of once again having to remind his students that he _was_ only twenty-nine and that he was _not_ going senile, he just had more important matters to attend to...which shall remain undisclosed.

Entering his classroom, Professor Kirkland was unsurprised to see it empty. He rolled his eyes as he moved to his desk and over to the pile of paperwork that seemed to have materialised on his desk since his last visit.

Arthur, however, had no time to glance at the paper work as the bells tolled, announcing the beginning of the school day. It took all of ten seconds for the noise to build in the corridors and for his students to begin filing into the classroom.

Disregarding his pupils, Arthur turned to the large blackboard behind him, picked up a small piece of chalk and began writing on the board. Today's lesson was relatively simple, so at least some of his students would be free f a headache- 'Good morning, Arthur!' Speaking of headaches....

Arthur turned to the voice that had come from the doorway of the classroom, his shoulders tense as he regarded the speaker with a stern stare. 'For the last time Alfred, it's "Professor Kirkland" to you' he paused momentarily, continuing to stare at the blond boy in front of him, something finally dawning on his mind 'and where did you learn my name anyway?!' Arthur would've sworn, had he been anywhere but his place of work.

The blue-eyed menace simply grinned and stated 'That would be telling!' in the same cheery tone before moving off to his seat, dropping his bag on the desk and sitting down.

Although Arthur knew he was entitled, he did not threaten Alfred with a caning for he knew that simply wasn't the sort of person he was, and sadly for him, so did his students. Huffing in annoyance, Arthur turned back to the board and lifted the chalk once again to begin writing

'Professor Kirkland...'

Failing to acknowledge the small voice behind him, Arthur continued writing.

'Prof-' the voice got smaller, discouraged 'Professor K-Kirkland...'

And still, Arthur paid no heed.

'Hey Arthur!' Alfred's voice boomed, making Arthur jump and turn on his heels towards the American 'Matthew's trying to talk to you!'

As Alfred spoke, Arthur jumped again coming face-to-face with one of his quieter pupils. Matthew gave a shy smile. 'Ah...' Arthur finally breathed, awkwardly, embarrassed at forgetting the boy even existed. 'I apologise Matthew' he continued hurriedly 'I was away with the fairies' and truly, he had been.

'That's fine...' Matthew spoke softly, blushing slightly at the commotion he'd caused 'h-here...!' he stated quickly, thrusting a small pile of papers at him and turning his back to Arthur, hurriedly moving to his seat, next to his brother.

Pursing his lips, Arthur turned his attention to the papers in his hands, noting that it had been a piece of homework that he'd asked to be done a week ago 'Matthew-' Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by a knock at his classroom door. Resisting the urge to scowl, Arthur turned towards the door, shouting 'Come in!'

There was a moment devoid of movement, from Professor Kirkland, his students and the person behind the door, and then, slowly, the door handle turned, squeaking in protest as the door gave way to reveal a short, pale individual, made paler by the obsidian hues of his attire. It was not a sickly pallor that the man possessed; merely one of ivory, perfect and unaffected by blemishes of any sort. The man's hair was freshly cut, short, and as black as the clothes on his back. It framed his face, and complimented his chocolate eyes most flatteringly. Although, Arthur noted that while attractive (Arthur conceded that this man caught the attention of many a woman) he always seemed too dire, and serious. Arthur often thought he was on the brink of _boredom_.

'Good morning, Professor Kirkland,' the short man stated, stood firmly in the doorway. 'I came to inquire after your decision. The Headmaster would very much like to make the final arrangements.'

Arthur's brows furrowed, which, for whatever reason, some of his students found amusing. 'I'm not entirely certain what you mean, Professor Honda. What decision?' placing the papers in his hand on the desk, Arthur made his way towards the shorter man, although, he was not that much shorter, it was still noticeable.

'Have you not looked at the paperwork-'

'Paperwork, what paperwork?' Arthur interrupted, looking somewhat confused and just a little bit miffed he had seemed to miss something.

Professor Honda was silent for a moment, before he sighed mentally, and explained 'I put it on your desk this morning. You were supposed to have read it by now and made a decision-'

'Well,' Arthur frowned, 'I obviously haven't read it so, would you please be so kind as to give me a brief overview of what it was about, please Kiku?'

Allowing himself a moment to close his eyes and lament having come before Arthur was ready, Kiku breathed slowly, just a little bit agitated that Arthur had used his first name at a place of work, during work hours. It meant that Arthur was appealing to him as a friend, and not a colleague, which made the entire thing much too personal 'We, that is to say the University, has been invited to France to take part in the first, what what promises to be and annual event in the future.' Arthur nodded, brows furrowing in concentration, and not anger this time. 'It is aimed towards the science faculties-' there was a pause for Kiku's hesitation '-Arthur...as the only scientist of any particular merit, it has been decided that you are to attend this function, as well as your best student.'

'What, _me_?' Up until now, the two professors had been discussing the matter in hushed tones, but Arthur's soft outburst had caught the attention of his students, who, he noticed, were watching now with curious gazes. He continued, leaning closer to Kiku, hissing 'Why me? _I don't want to go to bloody France_!' Opening his mouth to reply, Professor Honda was immediately cut off when Arthur continued his relatively silent rage 'And what student would I take!? I would've taken Matthew immediately had he not just handed me a piece of homework that was meant to have been done quite some time ago!'

Raising a hand, Kiku held it up, to silence Arthur 'I do not know who you will take, and frankly, it is not my decision to make. I apologise, but you have to go to France. You know as well as I do that once the Headmaster's mind is made up, it stays that way.'

Frowning, Arthur stared at Kiku for a moment, before his frown turned very slowly, into a scowl 'Fine' he relented, turning to his students and making his way over to his desk, picking up the papers Matthew had handed him earlier 'Alfred. You're going to France.' Said boy simply sat, somewhat stunned, as was the rest of the class, Matthew included. He heard a soft click and noted that Professor Honda had left to inform the Headmaster about his decision.

It was then that Alfred broke out into a very uncivil, yet so completely Alfred whoop of joy.

It was also then he realised that the name in the top right-hand corner papers was not Matthews, but Alfred's.

Well...bollocks, he thought.

**(A/N: Well, hello! This is the first real chapter to my fic. I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. I hope I got everyone in character. Let me know what you think and I'll give you all a cookie. **Just a plea again, to helpful historians. DON'T LET ME BUTCHER 1900 FRANCE!**)**


	3. Vive La France

Authors note: Sorry guys! I know it's been a while since I updated, but geh! No real excuse except for the severe lack of inspiration.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, because if I did Roderich would be seen in a maid's outfit more often.

Of Science and Fiction;

Chapter two: Vive la France.

It wasn't so much that Arthur was irritated by the fact he had been shipped off to France to indulge in the art of academics, or the fact that he would be surrounded by mockery, or the extremely exasperating American sat beside him. No, what irritated Arthur Kirkland he most was the fact that it was France. _France._

If there was one thing it was necessary to know about Arthur Kirkland it was that he hated France. It was too sunny. Too happy. Too Romantic. It made Arthur's stomach churn; he had never been one for romantics himself, and he wasn't about to start. There was nothing wrong with a woman that didn't need wooing. Back in England, security was all that truly mattered. To own a good home and to earn good money and to just _know_ that you were in a working relationship was good enough. The way of the French was just too flashy for the Englishman.

Now, that isn't to say he abhorred romance in it's entirety. He could tolerate it. He just chose not to. So when arriving in Paris after a long and...trying journey via the ferry across the channel, and a train ride into the city, Arthur was not happy to have his senses overwhelmed with how...openly affectionate the French were with one another. They would hold hands and _kiss in public_, and it just wasn't _right._ The French really seemed ignorant of decency and propriety.

I was just late afternoon when Arthur arrived at the hotel with Alfred in tow. They were given their room – they were forced to share, not because Alfred was under-age – no he was perfectly able to stay in a room by himself, but because their trip have been financed by the university, therefore, some sacrifices had to be made. It was just unfortunately, Arthur thought, that one of the sacrifices he would have to made is the comfort of being left alone.

Alfred talked. He talked _a lot_.

Normally, this would be something Arthur could just about cope with, however, this was Alfred. To him, the boy said very little that could be considered intelligent. Now, that isn't to say the boy was an utter moron, no. He had gotten into one of the best universities in England after all. No, Alfred just had a problem with vocalising his ideas in a sensible, and realistic manner. It was not uncommon for Mister Jones to accuse Professor Kirkland of 'stifling his creativity'.

However, despite Arthur's misgivings about spending the week at a conference with quite possibly the most irritating person alive, Arthur was thankful for the room. Once he had gotten checked in and received the Key he and Alfred had made quick word of locating the room, which was only on the second floor of the small hotel. It was not a particularly prosperous hotel, Arthur noted, or at least, he assumed, by the décor, which in some places was faded, and the prints were old and out-dated. It was a simple cream colour – although in some parts Arthur could have sworn it faded into a dull gray – and the pattern, floral.

The floor was covered in a simple burgundy carpet, also faded and was victim to more then a few mysterious strains. These stains in particular were highlighted by the fact that the corridors were bare, save for the flower arrangement, tulips, Arthur noted, set into a simple deep brown vase on a small end table, also simple in itself design. The flowers themselves, not very interesting in Arthur's point of view, were only noticed by him at all because of the large window at the end of the corridor, the light streaming into the room and creating shadows were the flowers had been placed.

At Alfred's prompt; which happened to be the American calling his name repeatedly over and over, Arthur turned around to fix the boy with a stare that simply read 'If you don't quiet down now I'll send you back to England'. Jones didn't seem to catch on and Grinned at Arthur as the Brit placed the key in the lock and turned up, pushing the door open with ease. He winced slightly at it's unforgiving creak.

The next obstacle that the pair tackled – literally – was choosing a bed to sleep on. Some that Alfred quickly resolved by, at Arthur's chagrin, running and jumping onto the bed of his choosing – the bed closest to the doorway of the hotel. "I want to be closest to the door in case I need to go to the outhouse in the night. Or get food. Or the outhouse" Alfred reasoned. Arthur didn't care. He simply sighed and took the bed closest to the window.

"Fine," Arthur replied, making his way to his bed, placing his suitcase down on the bed and removing a key from his pocket, swiftly undoing the lock and opening the simply black suitcase. "As long as you don't snore, I don't care which bed you sleep in." Beginning to unpack the contents of his suitcase into the nearby wardrobes, Arthur took the opportunity to survey the room. It was not much different from the corridor – by that, it simply meant that the floor and the walls were very much the same, although a little less worn and perhaps just a little more dusty from the apparent disuse of the room. The beds, from what Arthur could tell, looked comfortable at least, and offered two pillows to a bed, and a thick quilt to stave of the cold of the Parisian winter. Of course, apart from the beds there was little else in the room besides the drawer in which Arthur was currently placing his unmentionables and the mirror hung above it. To the left corner of the room sat a writing desk and basic stationary, in the case of a letter needing to be sent.

Alfred simply laughed and shook his head "Don't worry, I don't snore." The boy practically jumped to his feet, the weight of his landing causing the floorboards to creak obnoxiously beneath the carpet "I'm going to go exploring, Arthur-"

"_Mister Kirkland_-"

"_Arthur_," the boy countered pointedly, otherwise ignoring the positively livid look on the shorter man's face "and you're coming with me." the American demanded.

"No," the professor countered, scowling "we are not here to sight-see, Jones." the blond informed the taller male authoritatively "We're here for the Science convention, which, by the way starts in just over an hour, so you'll have to forego the exploration for now, eat dinner and then come with me." Arthur explained, slowly edging closer to his student with every word. Eventually, the man stopped just in front of the other and said, albeit in a tone that left no room for argument "And remember: Do not. Say. Anything. Stupid."

**(( A/N: Pfft~ Such a short update..! I know. And it took so long, too! And for no good reason either. Although, let me just tell you that preparing for my photography exam got in the way of my writing this. Very time-consuing subject that.**

**Anyways, let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. I know it's not terribly exciting (still) but you know. Good things come to those who wait. ))**


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